


Watch Your Language

by Caprichoso



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Linguistics as a turn on, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, bottom!Leorio, top!Kurapika
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-15 18:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8068894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: "As it turns out, he *was* quite interested in Kurapika's native tongue.He was absolutely interested in Kurapika's tongue.And above all, he was interested in exploring Kurapika's tongue with his own."Linguistic fascination used as a vehicle for a healthy dose of smut, occasionally detouring into sexual logistics hangups, snarky banter, and/or Great Big Stupid Feelings.





	1. Talking Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a great many things are discovered, and getting it on is not always easy or magical.

The Kurta language is, to an outsider's ear, a bizarre hodgepodge. There are too many consonants, not enough sibilants to soften the staccato rhythm, and the whole mess is further complicated by a series of tones, making for an uncharacteristically discordant singsong. In short, it seems there are only two kinds of people who could possibly find it beautiful- devoted linguists, and the Kurta people themselves.

Leorio belongs in neither category; that much is obvious to anyone who knows him, and if someone doesn't, he'll gladly volunteer the information. Still, he came by his fascination with the language honestly enough. He's friends with the last living Kurta, after all, and the words pop up at times. Catch enough glimpses of something rare and mysterious, and a man is bound to get curious; it's human nature. 

While his initial interest might have been perfectly innocuous, though, the way in which Leorio has gained a deeper appreciation for the language isn't quite so innocent. There are very few times at which Kurapika lapses into his native language; really, there are only two main situations, and the latter is where Leorio finds himself getting into trouble far too often.

First, there are certain terms in Kurta that simply don't translate well, complex and specific emotions or situations summed up by a single word in their language. When Kurapika pauses to search for an equivalent, he'll more than likely mention the term he's looking to convey. If Leorio can spend hours enthralled by his friend's explanations, watching the normally reserved veneer fall away as he discusses a subject so dear to him, that's normal- healthy, even. It's good for Kurapika to share, and Leorio is all too happy to learn.

The second situation, though, is Leorio's favorite by far. It shouldn't be, but it is. For all the talk of a Kurta's eyes being the best indicator of strong emotions, Leorio has discovered that isn't entirely true. Oh, Kurapika's eyes change, of course; there are varying hues, from the soft pink of happiness, to anger's fiery red, to a bloody self-loathing crimson that Leorio hopes never to see again. The brightness indicates the degree of feeling: in his most passionate moments, Kurapika can illuminate a dark room. Still, despite all of this, the best sign that Kurapika is truly lost in his emotions is not his eyes, but his mouth. 

The occasional hissed expletive in Kurta is fairly commonplace; Kurapika is more likely to let fly with another of the languages in his arsenal, but when the situation calls more for catharsis than communication, he falls back on his native tongue. It's rare to get more than a word or two out of him, but there are times when it just _flows_. For Leorio, there is nothing in the world more enchanting than those moments, though he initially couldn't (or wouldn't) put his finger on why. Whatever the reason, though, he was fascinated from the start, and so he set about coaxing Kurta from his friend as often as he could. If it just so happens that his go-to method for doing so nowadays is to stretch Kurapika's patience to the breaking point, Leorio can't be blamed entirely for that; anger is simple, quick to flare up, relatively easy to quench so long as he keeps the arguments good-natured. He's a doctor, or will be soon enough, and Occam's Razor is ingrained in his psyche.

Having those scarlet eyes directed at _him_ , being the target of Kurapika's tirade- and more importantly, his _passion_ \- is merely an added bonus, or so Leorio had thought at first. It was during one of those tirades, though, with Kurapika's face scant centimeters from Leorio's, that the good doctor had an epiphany.

As it turns out, he _was_  quite interested in Kurapika's native tongue. 

He was absolutely interested in Kurapika's tongue. 

And above all, he was interested in exploring Kurapika's tongue with his own. 

By the time Leorio's mind caught up to his body and he realized this series of indisputable truths, he was already on the floor, one cheek rapidly reddening with a distinct handprint. An incredulous Kurapika was staring down at at him, eyes flickering between angry red and a hue closer to magenta that Leorio had been unable to identify until that very moment. And when Leorio murmured something along the lines of 'fight later, kiss now,' Kurapika _pounced_.

As it turned out, the linguistic fascination was mutual.

It's become something of a game now, a test to see how long they can antagonize one another before someone (usually Leorio) succumbs to the temptation and closes the gap between them. Leorio supposes after almost a week of at least one "argument" a day, Kurapika might accept a kiss now without the theatrics beforehand, but he's not going to try until he's one hundred percent certain. Whatever this is between them, it's gone unspoken thus far, Leorio's only attempt to the contrary earning him an elbow in the ribs and a warning not to overthink things. The irony of that statement coming from the person most likely to analyze literally everything still has Leorio a bit miffed, but he's wise enough not to push. Their relationship is changing, hopefully for the better, but too much pressure at the wrong time could ruin everything, possibly even damage their friendship.

No matter what, Leorio won't risk losing Kurapika. He'll push his burgeoning feelings aside, save the thoughts of romance for some other time... if they ever get there. He still doesn't know what Kurapika wants from this, after all.

For now, it's enough to have those magenta eyes boring into his soul as Kurapika looks up, teeth holding his lower lip as he unbuckles Leorio's belt. Nimble fingers undo his slacks- button, zipper, that pointless second button behind the zipper- and tug them down to his knees. Everything from above their waists is a trail of clothes strewn from the couch to Leorio's bedroom, where heavy blinds keep the room dark enough to sleep at any hour, and Leorio can't help but feel a touch of nerves. This is the farthest they've ever gone; some part of him is worried he'll disappoint Kurapika somehow, though he'll do his damnedest to prove that thought wrong.

Leorio doesn't know what Kurapika wants from whatever this is between them, but he knows Kurapika wants _him_ , right here and now, and that's enough for the time being.

As Kurapika palms Leorio's hardness through the boxer briefs, that delicate mouth drops open, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. Kurapika's eyes meet Leorio's, wordlessly seeking permission, and he lifts his hips off the bed to answer, letting Kurapika hook his fingers under the elastic and drag his last garment down past neatly-trimmed hair. Leorio isn't one for shaving his body hair completely; he refuses to sacrifice his happy trail, and he despises itchy stubble and razor bumps anywhere, much less somewhere this sensitive. Still, he keeps it all groomed, just long enough to be soft rather than bristly. And since he's freshly out of the shower, it's not the sweaty, swampy mess that develops by the end of the day- one point in favor of morning sex.

Leorio's member springs free of the elastic, swinging back to thump against his lower abdomen, and he looks at Kurapika, instinctively bracing himself for the reaction. The running myth about tall men and certain correlations doesn't hold true in his case, though he's still above average; he just hopes Kurapika isn't as invested in stereotypes as some of the girls he's known.

The little _O_ formed by Kurapika's lips isn't one of disappointment, though; far from it. Slowly, almost reverently, his fingers reach out to trace along the length of Leorio's cock, applying just enough pressure to tease without tickling. They travel from tip to base, then lift off to start the journey again. On the next pass, those fingers wrap around him, dragging a groan from Leorio's mouth as they pump slowly downward. Kurapika's hand is pale, standing in stark contrast against Leorio's flesh; a little part of him crows in utterly juvenile triumph when he notes that Kurapika's index finger and thumb are barely able to touch as they encircle the shaft. It's no achievement of his own, merely a roll of the genetic dice, but it's still an ego boost. 

Kurapika murmurs something in Kurta; Leorio doesn't recognize much of it, but given the direction of his companion's gaze and the tone, he can fill in the blanks. It's all he can do not to sputter out a _thanks_ ; he's already in danger of spooking Kurapika even without letting on that he might be privy to things he isn't meant to understand. That train of thought disappears into nothing, though, as Kurapika's tongue paints a swath of warm, wet heaven from the top of Leorio's sack all the way up to the tip of his glans.

As vocal as Leorio is in his daily life, he's always been the strong, silent type in bed, so it comes as a shock to him when a ragged moan flies out of his mouth before he can stop it. His lips clamp together as tight as he can manage without the risk of biting through, and he tilts his head back to hide his blush, not that it's successful. He can't help but sneak a peek downwards, and when he does, he's greeted with magenta eyes and a smirk that's equal parts amused and predatory. When Kurapika repeats the motion, this time a little slower and more pronounced, Leorio tries his level best to keep quiet.

Never in his life has he been this fine with failing so miserably at something. 

He doesn't care if Kurapika laughs at him, even, as long as he keeps doing more of _that_.

On the third lick, Kurapika lets the head pop into his mouth, and Leorio is rapidly redefining his views on the existence of some sort of benevolent deity; rocky past aside, something this mind-blowing makes him ready to believe, if only to ensure he gets something like this for eternity. He's not sure whether it's his feelings for his partner that are making every sensation so extraordinary, or if Kurapika's mouth really is hotter and wetter than Leorio's previous lovers. Either way, the effect is very real, and enough to make Leorio stop analyzing it in favor of savoring the experience.

Leorio's eyes flutter, and he tilts his head back, taking several deep breaths for composure; when he's ready, he looks back down, and is nearly undone anyway. There's no way in hell he could ever be prepared for reality to mirror his most lurid fantasies: Kurapika's lips are wrapped around Leorio's cock, eyes shining bright enough to reflect off of Leorio's abs and illuminate the curve of his arched back. The corners of his eyes crinkle with effort as he bobs his head, taking the length deeper with each pass, until he draws away, letting it slide out of his mouth with an obscene _pop_. Panting ever so slightly, he fixes Leorio with a teasing smile, letting his tongue trace his lips with relish. 

In an instant Leorio has lifted Kurapika from the floor and flung him bodily onto the bed, yanking Kurapika's sweatpants down even as he kicks the remnants of his own clothing to the floor. Impatient as he is, there's no time for the anticipation and nerves as Kurapika's member comes into view: one second it's tenting those pants, and the next it's bobbing in front of Leorio's face, tall and hard and dripping beads of moisture that just beg to be tasted. It's not quite as girthy as Leorio's, and just a bit longer. It's a good thing he's never had much of a gag reflex: he wants to see the look on Kurapika's face as he takes it all, centimeter by centimeter. 

"Leorio." The name is harsh in the best of ways, anticipation and desire turning that confident tenor to a rasp. When Leorio turns the tables, copying Kurapika's languid lick, that rasp turns to a whimper. Pale fingers clutch at the sheets, and Kurapika's lower lip disappears between his teeth, a blush dusting his cheeks. He meets Leorio's gaze, just barely; those not-scarlet eyes are half-hidden beneath lids that seem unsure whether to screw themselves shut or go impossibly wide. It's better than his fantasies, even better than his prior view; as near-orgasmic as seeing Kurapika's mouth on Leorio's cock might be, there's something even better about seeing careful, composed Kurapika coming apart so completely in his grasp. 

As Leorio slides his mouth over the head of Kurapika's member, careful to wrap his lips over his teeth, he analyzes the taste of precum- musky, salty, not sweet in the least. He'd be much less enthusiastic about that flavor if it were associated with anything or anyone else, he decides, then sets to coaxing more of it out. There's no way he'll be as skilled with his tongue as Kurapika, in this or any other context, but he has one useless party trick that will finally come in handy for something worthwhile.

He bobs his head once, twice, three times, each time reaching a bit farther down the shaft, then stops when the head touches the back of his throat. Glancing up, Leorio settles down a bit lower, then looks Kurapika dead in the eye as he slowly takes the entire length into his mouth, nose bumping against a smooth-shaven pelvis. The ragged groan and the tremors in Kurapika's thighs as his hips rise involuntarily are reward enough, but when Kurapika lets loose a string of Kurta with the vowels drawn out in ecstasy, Leorio has a new favorite way to get Kurapika to speak his native tongue.

A nonexistent gag reflex truly is a blessing at times like these.

Rising up and freeing his windpipe of the otherwise welcome obstruction, Leorio takes a deep breath and starts in earnest, throwing nearly every dirty, devious little trick he's seen into the mix. This may be his first time giving a blowjob, but he's been on the other end of things often enough to know a thing or two. Now it's just a matter of finding his lover's weak spots and exploiting them. Just as he starts to get a feel for what drives Kurapika wild, though, insistent hands are pushing at his shoulders, lifting him up until Kurapika's member pops out of his mouth, along with a not insignificant stream of drool. Looking up, Leorio lets out the breath he's been holding and greedily sucks in another one. "I do something wrong?"

"The opposite," Kurapika says through gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut as he breathes deeply. After a moment, he opens his eyes and blushes, not quite meeting Leorio's gaze. "I was about to..." He chews his lip, searching for the word. "Embarrass myself. I'm sure there's an expression for that, but I only know it in Kurta. It roughly translates to 'spring the trap early'." 

As understanding hits Leorio, so does a swell of pride. "Y'know, I'm totally fine with you springing that trap anytime," he says with a pointed glance at Kurapika's visibly throbbing cock.

"But I'm not," Kurapika says, tugging Leorio up into bed and pulling him into a kiss that makes his head spin. As their hands roam, tracing and gliding and scratching and squeezing, that smoky voice whispers in Leorio's ear, punctuation coming in the form of little nips. "I want to make you feel good too. I want all of you, Leorio." 

If Leorio had thought his heart was hammering as hard as it could before, it's about to break out of his ribcage after that statement. "Fuck, Pika, yes," he groans, another pulse of his cock depositing even more precum on his companion's abs. It's happening; after a week of wondering, after _years_  of dancing around each other, they're finally going to go through with this. If this is a dream, Leorio would prefer to die in his sleep rather than wake up from it.

"Wanna fuck you," Kurapika hisses, grabbing hold of Leorio's ass and squeezing. His demeanor has shifted, baser instincts overriding his usual composure, and hell if that dirty, unsophisticated talk coming from someone so eloquent isn't just about the hottest thing Leorio's ever heard. "Wanna fill you up with my cock and make you come all over yourself."

"Yeah." Leorio is so caught up in the feeling, the rightness of this moment, that it's only after Kurapika slides out from under him and reaches into the nightstand that his friend's words sink in. "Wait, you... uh... fuck _me_? Like, my ass?"

Kurapika twists at the hip to look back, and the sight of him- lithe, toned body perfectly posed to show off everything, including that sardonic smirk- makes Leorio itch to capture the moment with a photo. Maybe another time, he'll dust off his old camera and show Kurapika just how beautiful he is.

"Generally speaking, given our particular set of anatomy, that tends to be how that goes," Kurapika observes in a tone drier than a pharmacology textbook, snapping Leorio back to the present. The magenta glow in his eyes has dimmed, but not entirely. "Did you have something else in mind?"

"Uh," he supplies, perpetually elegant. "Well, I guess I was kind of assuming that-"

A dangerous flash of scarlet. "Leorio, if the next words out of your mouth are some sort of macho bullshit about bottoming being inherently feminine or submissive, I swear I will kick you out of the apartment naked and finish myself off with my hand."

"No, no, nothing like that!" Leorio blurts it out as fast as he can, then stops short to consider his next words. "I just figure you probably have more experience than me with it."

"You _figure_?" The threat in the question is palpable, even without the dangerously arched eyebrow to accompany it.

Leorio shrugs. "Well, yeah. Any experience is more than no experience, right?"

Kurapika's expression softens, and he brings himself around to face Leorio fully, the bottle of lubricant in his hand suddenly daunting rather than enticing. "For the record... I don't have any experience with that either." He lets out a sigh, averting his gaze. "I'm just so tired of all the assumptions based on my appearance that I've always insisted on going against the expectation."

"Now that's the Pika I know," Leorio says with a chuckle. "You _chugged_  my burning-hot coffee that one time just cause I said you didn't strike me as a coffee drinker."

"Not my proudest moment, but I had a point to prove." A rueful grin tugs at Kurapika's mouth for just a moment, then he bites his lip, finally meeting Leorio's eyes. "I'm not saying I'll never let you do that to me in the future, but... this time, if it's okay with you..." 

Leorio's answer is a searing, ravenous kiss that cuts off any need for explanation, fueled in part by the fact that they're on the same page again and this is actually happening, and in a larger part by Kurapika's mention of a _future_  for them and the implication that this thing between them can keep going and _will_  keep going. "I want your cock inside me," he whispers, and his own member stirs to life as brown eyes ignite with magenta desire once more.

Kurapika lets out a growl, an animalistic sound that matches the fervor in his eyes, and he pushes Leorio down onto his back, kneeling between his partner's thighs as he rakes his gaze over the flesh he's about to claim so intimately. His expression is intense, even a bit frightening, but after a moment he returns to his senses, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Sorry, I just... don't say that yet. I want to make sure you enjoy this too, but you saying that..." He shudders, then collects himself and begins kissing his way down Leorio's torso. "We'll go slow. Let me know what feels good or doesn't, okay?"

Leorio murmurs some kind of assent, the majority of his nervousness banished by the tenderness and restraint Kurapika is displaying. The click of a cap, a moment's pause, and there's something cold and wet pressing against Leorio, gentle but insistent as it circles his entrance. It's a good thirty seconds or so before a finger ever so gently delves into him, sliding in so easily that he's actually surprised to find it inside him. "You're good at this," he says, just above a whisper. "My fingers never just slip in like that."

The finger goes a bit deeper, wiggling in an odd but not unpleasant fashion, and Kurapika makes a sound of amusement. "I thought you said no experience at all?"

"I may have... tried on myself every now and then, but that doesn't count. It doesn't feel anything like what you-" the last vowel catches and draws out into a shaky _ooh_  as a second finger joins the first, rotating and spreading gently as they both work their way back to the depth the first had reached. "Damn. That feels weird, but good kind of weird."

A thoughtful noise, and suddenly Kurapika's tongue is bathing Leorio's sack, his free hand coming up to stroke that waning erection back to full tumescence. It's in that moment that Leorio understands what guys get out of bottoming; every stroke of his cock, every movement of those fingers inside him, is so much more intense than usual. Maybe it's the angle, maybe it's the fact that it's not his own fingers, maybe it's just that Kurapika is the one whose skillful hands are making him writhe and moan, but whatever the case, this feels _incredible_.

The addition of a third finger, however well-lubricated, is enough to make Leorio grunt in discomfort, body tensing up. "That's a little much," he manages, grateful to feel Kurapika's hand stilling instantly. 

"Let me try something," that husky voice muses, and then Kurapika's mouth has encircled his cock, tongue playing along the underside in ways that make Leorio's legs quiver. A few seconds of this treatment, and all three fingers glide in with only the smallest hint of resistance. When they crook upwards to stroke against something firm that sends sparks radiating out all the way to Leorio's face, his whimper causes Kurapika to halt and pull away from his ministrations. "Bad?" he asks, a tinge of worry in his voice. 

"Good," Leorio corrects, semi-delirious. "So good. Wanna feel you in me."

A look crosses Kurapika's face, a raw, lascivious hunger, but it gives way to uncertainty. "It's your first time; I don't know if that was enough preparation. I don't want to hurt-"

"You won't," Leorio babbles, absolutely certain despite his glaring lack of experience. This is Kurapika, and that's all he needs to know to believe it one hundred percent. "Please, Pika." 

Kurapika's hips twitch forward of their own volition, and he draws his fingers out of Leorio slowly, gently. Leorio appreciates the consideration; he's made the mistake of pulling his own out too fast before, and it's not a pleasant feeling. "I..." Kurapika stares at him with a semi-dazed look, as though trying to remember something important. A second later, recognition dawns. "Condom? I don't have any here."

"It's okay," Leorio reassures him. "I get tested regularly, and there hasn't been anybody for... way more than long enough for anything to have shown up." A hint of a blush burns at his cheeks; as much as he likes to portray himself as a playboy, he hasn't gone past kissing with anyone in almost a year. It just seems pointless, somehow.

"Same here." Kurapika averts his eyes, an almost apologetic smile on his face. "It's been... embarrassingly long. On a related note, please don't hold it against me if I..." He trails off, blushing.

Leorio grins. "Spring the trap early?" At Kurapika's embarrassed nod, he threads his fingers through silky blond hair and draws his friend down into a tender but insistent kiss. "I don't care how quick you come, Pika, as long as you do it inside me."

The words draw a shuddering gasp from Kurapika, and then he's stroking both of their cocks, bringing them back to full mast once again. "It's usually easier if you're on your knees," he says, releasing Leorio just long enough for him to shift positions. There's the sound of the bottle opening, of slickness being applied to firm, eager flesh, and Kurapika settles in closer.

Ten seconds of fumbling later, there's a sigh. "Or not. Spread your legs wider or lean forward; we need to bring your ass lower." He mutters something else under his breath, and it sounds suspiciously like _fucking giant_.

"How low do I need to go, short stuff?" Leorio teases, looking back over his shoulder. "Need a couple pillows, or should we go straight for a stepladder?"

"Tell me, Leorio," Kurapika croons, voice dangerously smooth, especially in light of the slightly redder hue to his eyes, "Have you ever tested how far your testicles can stretch from your body before you start screaming? Because they're at just the right height to conduct that little experiment."

Needless to say, Leorio's ass is down in record time. Kurapika, to his credit, wastes no time in renewing his assault on Leorio's sanity, one hand sliding up and down Leorio's length even as the head of his own cock rests at Leorio's entrance. "Tell me what you want." The words are low, almost growled, an undeniable command that Leorio is only too glad to obey.

"Fuck me, Pika," he breathes. "I want you to put your cock in me." And just like that, there's pressure, patient but insistent, and in the wake of a particularly pleasurable stroke to Leorio's member, the head of Kurapika's cock pops in, drawing a joint gasp from them. The rest starts to go in slowly, agonizingly slowly, but it's probably for the best; three fingers was just enough preparation, but Kurapika's girth stretches him even more, riding the edge between odd and outright uncomfortable. As Leorio begins to relax, though, Kurapika sets up a gentle, subtle rhythm: in a few centimeters, out just a bit, in a little farther. It's an awkward intrusion, but somehow relaxing nonetheless. In just a few minutes, Kurapika is well and truly inside him, and that knowledge by itself makes Leorio let out a contented moan. He's glad Kurapika isn't as massive as the guys he's seen in porn; even this feels huge when it's in his ass. "Big," he groans into the bedsheets, "So fucking big." 

"Does it... does it feel all right?" Kurapika's voice betrays his strain, the white-knuckled grip on his self-control that keeps him from slamming into Leorio. And right now, Leorio is grateful that their positions aren't reversed; he's not sure he could conjure up that much control with Kurapika writhing under him. "Are you ready for more, Leorio?"

Leorio's eyes go wide, mouth agape as he turns his head. "There's more?"

"I'm about... halfway in," Kurapika admits, a sympathetic blush dusting his cheeks. "If you're not ready for it, it's okay. I can keep this up, just like this. It still feels-"

Whatever Kurapika might have said is lost in a strangled moan as Leorio pushes back, driving the cock deeper. Unfortunately for Leorio, his enthusiasm is rewarded with a painful twinge in a place that had heretofore been unfamiliar with pain. "Okay, ow. Bad idea," he manages between gritted teeth. "Different position?"

With a nod, Kurapika slowly pulls out, lying on his back. "If you're on top, you can do what feels best for you," he says, dribbling more lube in his hand and applying it liberally to his member.

It takes a few tries, but as Leorio sinks down atop Kurapika, the new angle draws a moan of pleasure out of him that radiates all the way to his toes and makes his eyes slide shut. His hands find their way to Kurapika's chest, bracing for balance as he begins to ride his lover, slow and uncertain but no less eager for his inexperience. Deeper and deeper he goes, until his ass finally comes to rest against Kurapika's hips. He's so impossibly full, and it feels _incredible_. Finally opening his eyes again, he takes in the sight of Kurapika, and is transfixed.

The light from his lover's eyes is between pink and magenta now, and bright enough to bathe the entire room in its glow. Kurapika's abs are tense, fingers fisted in the sheets, his whole body quivering with the effort of not thrusting upwards, even as his mouth hangs open to let out soft little sounds of pleasure. He's trying so hard to control himself, and Leorio's heart melts at the sight.

"You can move if you want," Leorio whispers, almost fearing that if he speaks too loudly this spell between them might break. With that, he reaches to his cock with one hand, the other still on Kurapika's chest, and begins to ride him- slowly at first, then gaining speed with each few seconds. Despite his tendency to stay largely silent during sex, he finds words tumbling out of his mouth unbidden- cries to a deity he doesn't believe in, curses of purest pleasure, praise for this amazing, wonderful person who's gently bucking up into him, brushing against spots that make his entire body shudder.

His words seem to ignite something deep in Kurapika; with a growl bordering on feral, he sits upright and pushes Leorio down onto his back even as he grabs hold of Leorio's calves and wraps his legs around his waist, reversing their positions without even pulling out or stopping. In fact, he increases his speed, tilting Leorio's hips until he grazes that sweet spot just right, and again, and as sparks dance all through Leorio's body, Kurapika begins to grunt out Kurta endearments with each thrust. Most, Leorio doesn't recognize, and doesn't need to; the guttural, needy tone says enough, so when he hears _you_  and _hot_  and _good_ , it's enough to draw encouragements from his own lips, albeit in a language that seems far less wondrous than the one on his lover's tongue.

They're getting close; both are growing erratic, almost sloppy as the impending wave of ecstasy rushes toward them. Leorio's hand moves in short, rapid strokes, concentrating his attentions where he's most sensitive. He manages some sort of hasty, vaguely coherent warning before the electric current pools in his pelvis and reduces his vocabulary to two syllables- _Pika_  spills from him in a myriad of tones, spurts of sound mirroring his release. He strokes himself through his completion, riding it out until his cock grows too sensitive, then turns his attention to Kurapika.

It's the most beautiful sight Leorio has ever seen; Kurapika's eyes still glow with that most glorious shade of pinkish magenta, illuminating a face full of desperation and vulnerability that he can hide no more than the sweat beading on his brow and glistening as it rolls down his chest. He's whispering something in Kurta, a continuous, babbling sentence that seems like the most important message in the world. There's a phrase that Kurapika keeps repeating, different variations of the same statement; part of it catches at Leorio's memory, and he closes his eyes, willing himself to remember.

Recognition slams into Leorio just as Kurapika's litany turns to a strangled cry. Kurapika brings their mouths together, less of a kiss than an attempt to hide the whimpers and growls that accompany his climax. His member pulses inside Leorio, and there's a muted feeling of heat delving even deeper. Under other circumstances, Leorio would likely find it either annoying or even more arousing, but he can't seem to summon his normal thought process. 

Kurapika collapses, head hanging beside Leorio's as he draws ragged breaths. One, two, and on the third he brings himself back up, somewhat steadier despite still looking utterly and thoroughly debauched. "Are you feeling okay, Leorio?" 

Part of Leorio wants to laugh at the absurdity of that question; another part wants to hit Kurapika as hard as he can for pretending everything should still be all right. As though he hasn't just turned their entire arrangement upside down with a confession he hadn't intended to be understood.

Silence hangs between them for seconds that seem like hours; Kurapika's brow furrows, concern clouding his eyes. "Leorio?"

"Pika," Leorio says, more cautious with his words than he's ever been, "Why did you... why did you say you love me?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.
> 
> The next chapter will be from Kurapika's point of view.


	2. Dirty Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are reactions and repercussions and even more Great Big Stupid Feelings.

"Why did you say you love me?"

Kurapika's first instinct upon hearing those words is to pull away, to retreat to a safe distance. Unfortunately, that course of action isn't feasible, considering that he's still _inside_  Leorio, and pulling out quickly is not an option unless he's willing to hurt Leorio. Instead, he freezes, battling with the fight-or-flight instinct buzzing in his limbs. His mouth doesn't seem to work anymore; merely opens and closes with aborted explanations and excuses. Finally, he reaches down to where the two of them are joined and slowly, very slowly, withdraws his member. The action feels every bit as awkward and unpleasant as the silence hanging in the air.

"Pika?" Of course Leorio would fill that silence. Of course Leorio would say his name in that worried tone. Of course Leorio would somehow recognize those particular words in a dead fucking language, because why wouldn't he have studied Kurta without ever telling Kurapika?

Kurapika curses Leorio in his head, then curses himself for having no response. Instead, he climbs off the bed and opens the door, daylight blazing into his eyes, making them water. That's all it's from, this moisture in his eyes- just an involuntary reaction to the sun. It's certainly not from the realization that Kurapika has singlehandedly shattered the illusion that made their bizarre little not-relationship function.

He feels dirty, filthy in a way surpassing the mess of sweat and worse that clings to his skin. It had felt so good, so _right_  to say those words with the knowledge that Leorio wouldn't understand; somehow, the fact that he _had_  understood had turned this beautiful secret into a testament to Kurapika's unending legacy of failure. He'd failed his clan with his absence, then again by abandoning his vengeance half-wrought. He'd failed the mafia when he abandoned them in their hour of need, just as he'd failed to even visit Gon on what should have been his deathbed. And now he's failed Leorio, first by his lie of omission, then by revealing that lie in a moment of weakness.

No matter what, Kurapika has to salvage something from this, has to at least ensure they remain friends. And so he turns, naked and defenseless and casting a shadow over his friend and the bed they'd shared, and forces himself to say something. "I can explain," he blurts. He can't. But he's going to try anyway. 

Maybe if he's clever enough, the lie he invents will be enough to save them, whatever fragment of a _them_  remains to be saved.

"Then start explaining," Leorio begins, rising off the bed. As he takes a step toward Kurapika, the sticky mess on his abdomen follows gravity, spreading itself around into an even bigger disaster, and a look of utter disgust twists his features as he clenches his entire lower body. Swearing under his breath, he shoots a glance over his shoulder, then back to Kurapika. "Bathroom," he grunts, then stabs a finger in the air, pointing directly between Kurapika's eyes. "You! Stay!"

And Kurapika obeys, even as Leorio bolts to the en suite bathroom; it's not as if he can do anything else. At least he can use this reprieve to think of some way to keep Leorio from walking out of his life entirely. There are only two options, really: he can own up to the words and hope for the best, or he can try to explain the confession in a way that softens it enough to be acceptable for their... arrangement. The latter is a gamble, given that he has no idea how familiar Leorio is with the Kurta language, but the former can't possibly end well, and he'd have to be an idiot to try it. Hundred-to-one odds, horrible as they are, still trump million-to-one odds.

When Leorio returns from his quick cleanse, it's with a damp washcloth, which he holds out to Kurapika, studiously avoiding eye contact. The cloth is warm; Leorio is as considerate and caring as always, and it makes the lie even more difficult.

After Kurapika has wiped away the worst of the mess, moisture rapidly cooling on his skin, he chews his lip and lets the washcloth drop to the floor. "You recognized... a particular phrase. However, the meaning may not be as clear-cut as you believe. Love can mean a lot of different things. It's... complicated." The half-truth hangs in the air, and Kurapika holds his breath, silently begging Leorio to accept it, if only outwardly. Any hope they have of maintaining a friendship depends on it.

But Leorio has never been the type to let Kurapika get away with anything.

"Not in Kurta it's not," Leorio shoots back, ticking off three fingers to illustrate. "Familial love, friendly love, romantic love. There's even a special little section in my dictionary to emphasize the concept. Three totally different words, and I _know_  which one I heard."

Blood pounds in Kurapika's ears, drumming his failure into his brain; he exhales, and his next breath is devoid of oxygen. "Well, I suppose there's no way out, then. I fucked up."

"What?"

There's a familiar burning in the back of Kurapika's eyes; if he doesn't control it, his self-hatred will light up the entire room. He falls back on sarcasm to release some of the buildup. "I. Fucked. Up. I tried to keep this a secret, which _naturally_  means I told you right to your face, you understood, and to top it all off, I did it while I was _inside_  you!"

Leorio blinks, cocks his head to the side; couldn't he have chosen to play dumb when it would have done their friendship some good? "So you... you actually meant it?"

"What, you want to force me to admit it again?" Kurapika's attempt at composure fails; his eyes blaze a deep red between crimson and scarlet, reflecting in Leorio's eyes. If this sadist wants to hear the words, so be it; it isn't as though things can get worse, after all. " _Yes_ , I meant it! I meant every word, and you weren't supposed to understand it, and this wasn't supposed to happen, and things were supposed to... to..." He trails off, fighting to keep that horrible knot in his chest from unraveling into sobs; if this is the end for him and Leorio, he'll at least keep the last shreds of his dignity intact.

"Why would you want to hide that, Pika?" The words are slow, heavy, as though weighed down by sadness and a lack of understanding.

A little snort breaks from Kurapika's nostrils, and he wants nothing more than to turn away, but he forces himself to make eye contact. "Because if you knew, you wouldn't... you wouldn't even let me have this much." He takes a shuddering breath, cursing the tremor in his voice that he can't banish. "As long as you never said otherwise, I could pretend there was a chance you felt the same way."

Too late, recognition dawns in those puppy-dog brown eyes. Leorio blinks, stretches out a hand, lets it fall back to his side. "Pika, I-"

"It was wrong and manipulative and I know I shouldn't have done it, but I'd be lying if I said I completely regret it. I'll..." Kurapika swallows hard to dislodge the words caught in his throat. "I'll make hotel arrangements and be gone by-""

"Hold up, why do you think I'd have rejected you because you..." Leorio pauses, of course. He can't bring himself to say that word, much less believe it. Any chance of reciprocation is light-years away. "...have those kinds of feelings for me?"

Kurapika spits out a Kurta expletive that literally means _bird shit_  but serves as a general expression of frustration. "Do I really need to go over your dating history, Leorio? Or more accurately, your refusal to even attempt anything beyond casual sex?" He's leaning closer, too close; he crosses his arms and restores the chasm gaping between them to its original size. It's safer that way, somehow.

"Touché," Leorio mutters, having the decency to blush just a bit. "But that still doesn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Kurapika snaps. He can't listen to Leorio's equivocations, his attempts to return them to that limbo of uncertainty. It's best to purge the infection all at once rather than let it fester. "At this point, you know, so we can skip to the part where you try and fail to spare my feelings and I try and fail to keep it from hurting like hell." He allows his eyes to drop to the floor; he's a masochist, as evidenced by his penchant for pursuing unrequited love, but he's not an idiot. This rejection is going to hurt more than enough without seeing the accompanying pity in Leorio's eyes. Taking a deep breath, he braces himself. "You can just say it. It's okay."

As unprepared as Kurapika is for his heart to be broken, he's even more unprepared for the hands that grab him by the shoulders and shake his entire body.

"Dammit, Pika," Leorio roars directly in his face, "For once in your life stop trying to win the argument and just let me talk for a minute!"

Kurapika blinks, blinks again, eyes impossibly wide. He can't summon a single thought in the deafening silence. 

"Good." Leorio's hands run to straighten a tie that isn't there; a little frown, and he rubs at his chest instead. "Now. When you said not to overthink things, I figured that meant you didn't want anything serious."

"'Don't overthink things' means precisely that! I didn't want you drawing-" A hand clamps over Kurapika's mouth, muting the rest of his reply.

"What did I _just_  say?" Leorio's voice is a low growl, and something primal in Kurapika yearns to obey that tone even as his rational mind rails against this manhandling. "Right now, I talk, you listen. You can talk again when I'm done, and I will let you know when that is. Got it?"

It's all Kurapika can do just to nod, dumbstruck as he is. Even as Leorio withdraws his hand, he remains stock-still.

Leorio pauses for a moment longer, as if he's waiting to see if he needs to put his hand back. Finally, he resumes. "Okay, so again, I thought you didn't want anything serious. Friends who make out, maybe do more, but no one grows any feelings or the whole thing gets messed up. I was okay with that; it's what I'm used to anyway, and I'm pretty good at managing my expectations. Are you with me so far?" He holds up a finger. "Just nod or shake your head."

With a dangerously arched eyebrow, Kurapika gives a single nod.

"So, now that we've established my state of mind, fast forward to where we're in the middle of my first time getting..." Leorio flushes red, then waves his hand in the air. "Doing a whole lot of _stuff_. You're speaking Kurta. That's cool, it's a sexy language, everything's great, but again, this whole thing between us is not supposed to get complicated. You wanted to keep it simple, we're keeping it simple. We still on the same page?"

Rolling his eyes, Kurapika nods again.

"Good, cause here's where it all grinds to a catastrophic fucking halt. Imagine my shock when I realize that instead of the standard dirty talk, you're saying you _love_  me over and over again!" Leorio's eye is twitching, and his hands clench and unclench in the air as his tone wobbles almost comedically. "Can you see how that would _maybe_  not be something I was _expecting_  to hear during our casual, no-strings-attached sex between people who are _just friends_?"

Shame bathes the back of Kurapika's neck in alternating hot-and-cold waves; he opens his mouth to reply, then bites his bottom lip, suddenly grateful that he's only supposed to nod. He doesn't trust his voice not to crack.

"That said," Leorio continues, one hand gently coming to clasp the fist Kurapika has balled at his side, "I hope you understand two things about where we go from here. One, I need time to process this. I've been specifically trying _not_  to let myself feel anything for you, so it's gonna be a while before I can rearrange things and figure out what I feel when I'm actually _allowed_  to feel. Especially after you basically lied to me about something huge because you didn't trust me." 

A strangled noise breaks free from Kurapika's throat, and he shakes his head vehemently, but he keeps his mouth closed, praying Leorio will understand.

"Shh, let me finish." He grasps Kurapika's other hand, then threads all their fingers together. "Two, I'm not rejecting you, even after all this. You ran on ahead of me before I knew we were supposed to be running, but... it's pretty likely we're running in the same direction, if you know what I mean. I can't promise anything for sure, but if you're willing to keep going, maybe I'll catch up." With that, he smiles, giving Kurapika's hands a gentle squeeze.

Silence hangs between them, even heavier than before but crackling with newfound potential. Kurapika tentatively returns Leorio's smile, but as the moment drags on, he can't help but raise an eyebrow. "So... can I...?" He trails off with a pointed look.

Leorio drops one of Kurapika's hands to smack himself in the forehead. "Shit! Uh, yeah, I'm totally done talking, by the way, so, um, you can say... stuff. If you want."

Just like that, the tension between them shatters; before he even realizes it, Kurapika has dissolved into a giggling fit, free hand patting helplessly against Leorio's abdomen. Every time he nearly regains his composure, a glance at Leorio's bewildered and slightly offended face sends him back into hysterics, until he finally elects to simply wrap his arms around Leorio and bury his face in that broad chest. "Idiot," he mumbles against olive skin that begs to be kissed; he refrains, just barely.

"Gee, thanks, Killua," Leorio grumbles. The bass vibrates in his chest, warming Kurapika's heart in ways he's never found described in all his years of reading literary romances.

"I love you," Kurapika whispers, and this time he can't resist pressing a kiss to Leorio's skin. "I'm not saying that to hear a response, so don't worry. I just... I love you, and I'm in love with you, and it feels wonderful to say that out loud."

"Not gonna lie; it feels pretty great to hear it too." The shit-eating grin on Leorio's face is audible.

Kurapika pulls away, poking a finger into Leorio's stomach. "You'd better not let your ego get even more over-inflated because of this; remember, I know where you sleep, and I'm perfectly capable of..." He trails off, face twisting in distaste as he pulls back a sticky finger. Without a moment's pause, he reaches up to grab Leorio by the shoulders and turn him around. "You're still sticky. Shower. Now."

Chuckling, Leorio leans back just enough to thwart Kurapika's attempts to push him in the direction of the bathroom, then shoots a mischievous glance over his shoulder. "Only if you're coming in with me."

A flutter rises in Kurapika's stomach at the implications of Leorio's proposal. It's just a shower, a seemingly trivial thing, but it's also much more- a first time, an intimately domestic ritual, a chance to wash away their misunderstandings and start anew...

"Stop that," Leorio admonishes, grabbing Kurapika by the wrists and pulling him flush against his back. "You've got your metaphor face on. Stop analyzing things to death and come scrub my back for me."

Kurapika's only response is to wrap his arms around his lover and gently push them both toward a much-needed shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, folks: linguistics as a vehicle for smut which is in turn a vehicle for feelings. Any and all reviews will be treasured.


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